


Whatever It Takes

by leigh_adams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Erotica, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-18
Updated: 2010-09-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh_adams/pseuds/leigh_adams
Summary: AU- What these people were celebrating- the deaths of so many of her friends- made her skin crawl and her stomach churn with revulsion.





	Whatever It Takes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This takes place in an alternate universe, one in in which Harry Potter died at the Battle of Hogwarts and the fight continued on for years.  This fic, written for a friend, is based off of the song [“Why Can’t I”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SePx7TJoDJI) by Liz Phair (lyrics: [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lizphair/whycanti.html)). This is definitely a twisted interpretation of the lyrics, and I’m 99.9% sure that this was _not_  what she was expecting- sorry! >.< This fic is set in the same AU verse that my [Blaise/Daphne fics](http://venividiscribi.livejournal.com/5284.html) are set in, as well as two previous works of mine, Betrayal ([part one](http://leigh-adams.livejournal.com/52921.html) and [part two](http://leigh-adams.livejournal.com/56346.html#cutid1)). It functions as a stand-alone, though, so you need not have read those to enjoy! 

The ballroom at Nott Manor was elegantly decorated and full to capacity, witches and wizards of the upper echelon of society decked out in their finery and mingling beneath the crystal chandeliers. There was an air of gaiety that belied the underlying tenseness that many guests felt; as with any social gathering held these days, there was always the sense that _something_ was just waiting to happen.  
  
It was six years to the day since the Dark Lord had triumphed at Hogwarts, four years to the day since he had executed his arch nemesis and secured his power of wizarding Britain. What was left of the Order had been driven underground, hiding out of fear and necessity. They were wanted men and women, and there was a hefty price upon their heads.   
  
Murmurs rippled across the ballroom as a new arrival caught the attention, and word spread back across the room. All eyes moved to the statuesque, willowy blonde at the entrance to the ballroom. She was beautiful, almost ethereal, and her black satin evening gown clung to her like liquid. Her long blonde hair was half pinned back and tumbled down her back in an array of curls, and her face was absolutely immaculate. At the sight of her, more than one man was filled with an overpowering desire to bed her.   
  
Piercing green eyes swept across the room, her lips twitching _ever_ so slightly when she landed upon the man she was seeking. Theodore Nott, Junior. Death Eater, husband to Astoria Greengrass-Nott, and one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted followers. He had in his possession a number of documents that the Order wanted.  
  
And that was why Katie Bell had reemerged into society.  
  
 _Kingsley Shacklebolt’s low, soothing voice was nowhere near soothing as he spoke. “We need those plans, Bell,” he said slowly. “This is our best chance. Their guard will be down for the anniversary, and we may not have another chance at rescuing them.”  
  
‘Them’ referred to a group of prisoners, Ginny and Bill Weasley among them, that the Death Eaters had captured during a raid on an Order safe house a month prior. Last they’d heard, they’d all been still alive, though that fact grew more and more tenuous by the day.   
  
Katie’s brother, Jonathan, was among them.  
  
“You’re the best dramatist among us,” he continued, “and you know how to operate in a situation like this.”  
  
“How do you know that Nott will even fall for this?” she asked. “He’s married.”  
  
“He has a weakness for beautiful women,” Stephen said from his spot in the shadows of the room. After his parents had fled for safer land, Stephen had inherited Carisbrooke, his family estate, which now served as the Order’s headquarters. It was remote, large, and had the added benefit of being protected by ancient blood magic. As long as a Cornfoot called it home, no Death Eater could breach the wards.  
  
She didn’t like the plan, but there seemed to be no other way. “So you’re saying I should seduce him to get to the plans?”  
  
“Do whatever you have to do,” Kingsley replied.   
  
That idea didn’t sit well with Katie. She tried not to look, but her eyes couldn’t help but drift to Stewart. Her lover stood next to Stephen, his face completely devoid of emotions and his lips set in a hard, straight line. He was nothing like Theodore Nott, a man she barely knew save for reputation.  
  
For one, he loved her.  
  
She couldn’t think of him now, though. They had her brother, one of her last blood relatives she had left, and his survival was dependent upon the success of this mission. She would do what she had to do, _whatever_ she had to do in order to save him.  
  
“Alright,” she said quietly, pulling her gaze back to Kingsley’s. “Let’s do it.”_  
  
 _Get a load of me, get a load of you  
Walkin' down the street, and I hardly know you  
It's just like we were meant to be  
  
Holding hands with you when we're out at night  
Got a girlfriend, you say it isn't right  
And I've got someone waiting too  
  
What if this is just the beginning  
We're already wet, and we're gonna go swimming_  
  
Katie stepped into the ballroom and immediately plucked a glass of champagne of the tray of a passing waiter. If she were to do this, she was going to need liquid fortitude. At least, something other than the Polyjuice Potion she had on her.   
  
_”There’s enough for three hours, Bell,” Kingsley had said. “Get in, get the documents, and get out.”_  
  
 _Easy for him to say_ , she thought. _He’s not the one who has to disarm a Death Eater with his ‘charm.’_  
  
She didn’t have time to dilly-dally about the party. What these people were celebrating- the deaths of so many of her friends- made her skin crawl and her stomach churn with revulsion. She had half a mind to start flinging the Killing Curse about in hopes of taking down a few of the bastards before she met her own end.  
  
But embarking on a suicide run wouldn’t help save Jonathan.   
  
Thinking of her older brother helped to narrow her focus and bring her mind back to the mission at hand. She could see Nott and his wife at the edge of the dance floor, engaged in conversation with Draco and Pansy Malfoy. _Another scum who deserves to die_ , she thought, gaze dropping to her right hand. The Polyjuice hid it, but she could still see the spot where her curse mark lay. It was a constant reminder of how close she had walked- and still walked- to death.  
  
As she drew closer, her gaze slid to the woman at Nott’s side. Astoria Greengrass- Nott. _Corner’s sister_. Michael Corner was a quiet refugee at Carisbrooke, one of Stephen’s old classmates, but he’d mentioned his sister before. Rory, he’d called her. From what little she’d been able to garner from gossip amongst the ranks, she’d been forced into marriage with Nott by her uncle, who’d taken her in after her father had been murdered.   
  
There was a dark, haunted look in her eyes; one that she’d seen in several gazes of the women present. Time, it seemed, wasn’t as kind to the victors as one was wont to believe.  
  
A tap on her bare shoulder startled her out of her reverie, and she turned quickly to see the darkly handsome face of Marcus Flint standing behind her. Her heart seized up and started beating wildly before she tried to calm herself; she was in Polyjuice, he didn’t recognize her.  
  
“May I have this dance?” he asked, giving her a low bow as he held out his hand.  
  
Summoning her courage, Katie gave him a flirtatious smile and placed her hand in his. “Of course,” she said coyly as she let him sweep her onto the dance floor.  
  
 _Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you  
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you  
It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it  
So tell me  
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you_  
  
One dance turned into two, which turned into five, as Katie found herself swept across the dance floor by many a man. This was utter foolishness; she had a _mission_ , dammit, and dancing was going to do nothing but reveal her to these people.   
  
When the music finished, she gave her newest partner a small curtsey and murmured her thanks before turning back to the edges of the ballroom. Her eyes widened as she immediately bumped into another man, one hand flying up to brace herself against his chest. “Oh, I’m so sorr…” she trailed off as recognition dawned upon her and the identity of the victim of her clumsy bumbling was revealed.  
  
“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of introductions yet, madame,” he said smoothly, taking her dainty hand in his and pressing a kiss to the skin of her knuckles. “Theodore Nott, at your service.”  
  
An expression of coy delight firmly in place, Katie said, “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Nott.”  
  
“It’s Theodore,” he replied, giving her a lascivious smile. “Might I inquire as to your own name, though?”  
  
“Ariadne,” Katie replied smoothly. “Ariadne Demarchelier.”  
  
“Aridane,” Theodore said. “A beautiful name to match your lovely visage.”  
  
 _Creep_ , Katie thought with a smile. Instead of voicing her thoughts, though, she said, “You have a lovely home. And the evening’s festivities have been superb.”  
  
“I thank you for your kind words.” His dark gaze raked over her luscious body, clothed in a tight-fitting dress and her feet shod in dangerously sharp stiletto shoes. “May I have the honor of your hand for a dance, Miss Demarchelier?”  
  
“It’s Ariadne,” Katie said gently, “and you may.” It was hard to breathe as she let him lead her back into the throng of dancers about the parquet floors, but she summoned her years of athletic training to control her heart rate and keep her breaths steady. There was a rush of adrenaline running through her veins; she was _so_ close to her goal, yet she still had so far to go before she was safe.  
  
Theodore drew her close, one hand clasped around hers while the other slid to the small of her back. She could feel the heat from his skin through the silk of her dress, and his fingers danced lightly, teasing her.  
  
It made her sick.  
  
“So, Ariadne,” her host said, his low voice breaking her reverie, “how have we not met prior to tonight? I must say, I would remember a woman as beautiful as you.”  
  
 _Of course you would_. “I’ve been abroad,” she said vaguely.  
  
“Oh? Where have you been hiding?”  
  
Ignoring the true answer to his question, she said, “Monaco. My mother’s been quite ill for the past year or so, and my father passed years ago. I’m the only family she has.”  
  
“And how is her health? I trust the Mediterranean climate has been beneficial?” he asked politely.   
  
“Much improved, thank you.” In reality, Katie’s own mother was deceased. She had died two years prior in a boating accident with Katie’s stepfather. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a real accident, though, but circumstances hadn’t allowed her to even attend the funeral. “She insisted I return home for the gala tonight.”  
  
Theodore smiled and pulled his beautiful partner closer. “I’m glad she did,” he murmured, ducking his head to breathe in her sweet perfume.  
  
Katie’s breath caught as if with desire, and she leaned into Theodore’s hard body, gazing up at him through her long lashes. “As am I,” she murmured softly. “As am I.”  
  
 _Isn't this the best part of breakin' up  
Finding someone else you can't get enough of  
Someone who wants to be with you too  
  
It's an itch we know we are gonna scratch  
Gonna take a while for this egg to hatch  
But wouldn't it be beautiful  
  
Here we go, we're at the beginning  
We haven't fucked yet, but my head’s spinning_  
  
Theodore groaned softly at the look in her eyes and the way her soft body felt, crushed against his. He _wanted_ her, and he wanted her _now_. The song was winding down, and it was time to make his move.  
  
“Have you an escort tonight?” he asked in a low, raspy voice.   
  
Katie’s lips twitched upwards in a seductive smile, and she shook her head. “No. I am on my own for the evening.”  
  
Her suitor smiled, a dark, knowing gleam in his eyes. “Might I enjoy your company for just a bit longer? Perhaps somewhere a bit more…private?”   
  
Even though she wanted to recoil and run from the room, she nodded. “You may,” she whispered, pink tongue darting out to wet her full lips. If this was what she had to do, then she would do it. Stewart would forgive her.  
  
He took her hand and led her through the crowds, out of the ballroom and into the large, open hallway. Her heels clicked against the marbled floor as she followed him back through the winding corridors, her keen eyes taking note of closed doors and markers. She’d need to have her wits and knowledge about her in case she needed to flee.  
  
Theodore stopped and pushed open a door, leading her inside before he shut the door again. A prickle blew over her skin, the ghost of magic making gooseflesh rise when she felt him whisper a Locking spell at the door.  
  
And then his hands were sliding over her shoulders and he whirled her around, crushing his lips to hers. Katie whimpered and bit down on his lower lip as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. His breath was hot against her lips, and she could taste the heaviness of the whiskey he’d been drinking earlier mixed with the light aftertaste of champagne.   
  
He wasted no time. His hands moved up to grope her breasts, and one hand slid beneath her dress to palm to bare skin beneath. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and interpreted her whimpers and gasps as ones of pleasure. His lips broke from hers to kiss and bite at her throat, marring the smooth skin and leaving angry red welts in their wake.  
  
Katie’s own hands moved to the buckle of his belt, nimble fingers making quick work of the silver fastenings. She pushed all of her thoughts to the back of her mind and just went on instinct. Do the deed, get the plans, and get out. It was what she had to do.  
  
Pulling back, Theodore knocked her hands out of the way and practically ripped his belt from his trousers before he pushed trousers and pants down, exposing his erect member. His hands fisted in her dress and pulled up, eyes darkening with desire as her long, white legs were revealed to his leering gaze. One hand slid between her legs, parting lips and folds as he pushed one finger, then two, up into her hidden place.   
  
Moaning, Katie grasped at his shoulders to steady herself. She hated the way her knees were going weak, how her mind was growing hazy. This was _wrong_. Her mind and heart knew that, but her body wasn’t listening.   
  
Theodore slid his hand from her when he felt her wetness coating his fingers, and his hands went to her hips as he lifted her. Walking them backwards, he sat down when his knees hit the sofa and pulled her down with him. A simple lift, and Katie sank down onto his erection, letting out a lusty moan as she did.  
  
He began to thrust into her, hips moving up against hers. She clenched and fluttered around him, trying to draw out his orgasm quickly as she lifted herself up with her thighs, then sank back down onto him.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, “you feel _so good_.”  
  
“Harder,” she whispered, “you know you want it. _I_ want you to.”  
  
A low, wordless sound fell from his throat, and Theodore began to spasm against her. He lost all control and rammed into her with a force that caused her to cry out. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders, and her knuckles were white as she held onto him.  
  
It felt like a lifetime, but she finally felt him lose control and grow limp within her. _Thank Merlin_ , she thought as he slumped back against the sofa, spent from his exertions.  
  
 _High enough for you to make me wonder  
Where it's goin'  
High enough for you to pull me under  
Somethin's growin'  
out of this that we can control  
Baby I’m dyin'  
  
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you  
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you  
  
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you  
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you  
It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it  
So tell me  
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you_  
  
She felt disgusting, as though she’d never be clean again, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. She had work to do, and her two hours were nearly up.   
  
Reaching down to the bodice of her dress, she slipped her fingers inside and felt around for the hidden sleeve she knew was magicked inside the material. Lips twitching in satisfaction when she found it, she slipped her fingers inside and withdrew her wand.  
  
“How did you-“ whatever Nott had been about to say was silenced as Katie shut him up with a Full Body Bind spell, quickly followed by a Silencing Charm.   
  
“How did I get my wand in?” she asked. “Easy. I checked a fake wand at the door and smuggled my real wand inside. Silly boy.”  
  
Theodore’s eyes were wild with anger. His body was still and his mouth was silent, but she could tell through the look in his eyes that he was _livid_.   
  
Katie slid off his lap and adjusted her dress as she turned towards the far western wall. Their reconnaissance of Nott Manor put the safe behind the portrait of Urqhuart Nott, the current Nott’s great-great-great grandfather. She crossed the room and pulled the portrait off of the wall, smirking in satisfaction when her eyes saw the cold metal safe behind it.   
  
Closing her eyes, she raised one hand pressed it to the safe, letting the magic wash over her. There was always understanding to be had of old wards, and so many of the old families had intermarried over the years that there was little doubt she _could_ call upon some old ancestor whose shared blood ran through both Nott’s and her veins.   
  
As she felt the magic, her appearance slowly started to change. Her blonde hair shortened and darkened, going back to its normal dark brown waves. Her feet grew smaller and slipped out of the shoes, and she drew closer to the floor as she returned back to her normal height. The Polyjuice Potion had worn off, and Katie was completely on her own with no disguises to hide her.  
  
Gasping, her fingers curled as if trying to hold onto a loose strand of magic. Raising her wand, she started to whisper reverse incantations, the heady power of the old magicks running through the room. She had to hurry before it called to the other party goers, but there were some things that just could not be rushed.  
  
When she finished murmuring, she lowered her wand and reached for the handle. It was the moment of truth.  
  
Much to her delight, the safe door swung open easily, revealing a leather-bound notebook. Katie reached for it and opened it, brown eyes quickly scanning the contents. _Is this…. **yes!**_ It was what she’d sought out, the documents revealing the location of her brother and the other prisoners.  
  
Now to get home. Reaching back into her dress, she pulled out a Knut and held it in her hand. She needed to get out _now_ , but Nott’s face was just _so_ tempting- too tempting, in fact. Quickly, her bare feet padded back across the room, and she almost tangled herself in the newfound extra material that had revealed itself when she’d shrunk back to her normal height.  
  
“Nott,” she said, her voice low and dangerous as she stared down at him, revulsion clear in her gaze. He was frozen, slumped against his chair with his prick still hanging out of his trousers, and she had to repress the urge to vomit. “You disgust me.”  
  
With that declaration, she pulled her fist back and punched him in the nose, smirking in satisfaction when the cartilage folded and blood started to gush out of his nostrils. It was little satisfaction, but it would have to do for now. She wanted to slice his belly, to rip him open from nostril to navel, but now was not the time.  
  
The papers were tucked carefully against her body as she held the Knut up and whispered, “ _Domus Carisbrooke_.” And right before Nott’s angry eyes, she felt the tugging sensation behind her navel as the Portkey activated and she disappeared.

 


End file.
